He doesn't need your concern, and he wouldn't value it anyway. Someone else will look after him.

At the start of junior year, Bryce Anderson managed to get into City Academy with the second-highest score in the city.

Every once in a while, Eden would join him at the cafeteria for lunch.

"I ordered too much. Here, have some." Whenever Lucas Powell walked past them with his lunch tray, he would casually toss a few fried skewers onto Bryce's plate.

"Thanks, man," Bryce would say, looking up before immediately sliding a few of the skewers onto Eden's tray. "Eat up, you need it."

"How do you even know him?" Eden asked, staring at the skewers.

"Met him on the court a couple of weeks ago when we were playing ball."

"Has he ever mentioned me?"

Bryce looked confused. "Why would he bring you up? You guys even know each other?"

"It’s nothing," Eden replied, her eyes dropping to her tray. "We aren't close."

"Actually, Julian keeps asking me about you. He seems super interested," Bryce added with a mischievous smirk.

Eden didn't say another word, just kept her head down and finished her meal in silence.

"I didn't say anything bad about you, I swear!" Bryce rushed to add. "Lucas is always there. He can vouch for me."

Eden just gave a faint "mm-hmm," a surge of bitterness bubbling in her chest.

She felt like she hated Lucas Powell even more now.

Not long after the semester began, the annual fall sports festival arrived.

Eden had been tasked with carrying the placard for her class. When she left the dorm that morning, the temperature didn't seem too low, so she opted for the school-issued white button-down and a pink pleated skirt. But as soon as the opening ceremony kicked off, the sky darkened. A damp, biting wind began to swirl, snaking its way right into the collar of her shirt.

She stood at the front of her class for over thirty minutes, shivering, until the ceremony finally ended. Since she wasn't participating in any events, she dropped the placard back at the bleachers and hurried off, planning to hit the infirmary for some heat patches before heading back to the dorm to change into something warmer.

As she stepped into the infirmary, she saw Bryce rummaging through the medicine cabinet.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Me? I'm fine," Bryce explained. "Lucas twisted his ankle yesterday. He has an event later, so I just swung by to grab some meds for him."

Bryce looked at her, tilting his head. "What about you? You feeling sick?"

"Is it bad?" Eden asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Lucas... is his injury bad?" Eden pressed. "If it's serious, he should use that spray over there. It works way better than the ointment you're holding."

"It's alright, nothing too crazy. This should do the trick," Bryce replied, then added, "Seriously, though, you haven't answered me. You not feeling well?"

"No, I just came to get some heat patches. I was standing out there for half an hour holding that sign—I'm freezing to death."

"You girls always wear so little for those opening ceremonies, of course you're freezing." Bryce handed her a black jacket he had been carrying. "Put this on for now and get back to the dorm to change."

Eden didn't stand on ceremony; she took it and draped it over her shoulders. She glanced down at the sleeves, frowning slightly. "Since when do you wear black? I don't remember you owning this..."

"It's not mine. It’s Lucas's. I was holding it for him," Bryce said before rushing toward the door. "Make sure you get it to him later, okay?"

Eden stood frozen, her fingertips trembling as she gripped the fabric.

When she got back to the dorm, she changed into a thick tracksuit. She stared at the black jacket draped over her chair for a long time, eventually picking it up and holding it to her chest. She locked the dorm room and headed back toward the track.

As she walked, her mind raced: How was she supposed to return this to him?

Should she just march up to the Class 7 bleachers? If his classmates saw her, would they start gossiping about the two of them again?

She let out a hollow, bitter laugh at herself.

Why bother worrying? It’s not like anyone was still spreading rumors about her and Lucas anymore.

She was just about to circle the track toward the bleachers when two boys from Class 7 flew past her, jogging in a hurry.

"Lucas wiped out during the relay. It sounds pretty bad—he can't even stand up."

"He kept running even after he twisted his ankle?"

Her heart stopped. Without a second thought, Eden took off after them. Her eyes were locked onto their retreating backs, and in her panic, she didn't see the two boys shoving and chasing each other in front of her. She collided with them, hard.

She hit the ground, a sharp, searing pain shooting up her tailbone. Her palms scraped against the track, the skin torn and bleeding. She winced, stifling a cry of pain. Even as the boys scrambled to help her up, apologizing profusely and offering to take her to the infirmary, she just muttered a quick "I'm fine." She snatched up the black jacket, which had fallen in the dirt, and scrambled back to her feet, running toward the field.

But after a few steps, she stopped dead. She couldn't take another step forward.

Across the track, at the far end, Molly Lee was supporting Lucas, who was limping heavily, as they made their way toward the infirmary.

Molly was sobbing, her voice frantic. "I told you not to run! You just had to do it, didn't you?"

"If you've ruined your ankle for good, don't even think about playing ball ever again!"

Lucas offered a weak, pained smile. "Is that any way to talk to a guy? Can you stop crying, please?"

Eden stood perfectly still. A wave of suffocating bitterness washed over her. She asked herself, *Eden, what are you doing? Why are you even here?*

He doesn't need your concern, and he wouldn't value it anyway.

Someone else will look after him.

Even if you ran over there now, what could you do? Would you be able to support him like Molly is, walking him to the infirmary for the whole school to see?

The stinging, raw pain in her palms was a cold reminder. *Wake up, Eden. Stop being so pathetic.*

She didn't know how long she stood there. It wasn't until the loudspeaker crackled to life, announcing the check-in for the boys' 800-meter relay, that Bryce came jogging past her. He stopped when he saw her, his expression turning to one of confusion. "Why are you just standing here?"

He caught the look on her face and asked, "What’s wrong?"

Eden didn't say a word. She simply threw the black jacket at him, her expression hardening, and walked away.